Obsession

by Patricia Bradley

“Nothing major. Just excavating a bit at Mount Locust,” she said, keeping her tone casual.

  “The slave cemetery?”

  “No. Corey Chandler has a client who doesn’t want us to bother the cemetery. I’m trying to work something out there.” Then before he could ask more about the dig, she added, “His client doesn’t seem to mind if I explore where the cabins were located, so I’ll start there next.”

  “That should be interesting, but aren’t you off tomorrow?”

  “I’m volunteering a few hours,” she said.

  “This project must be important to you.”

  If he only knew. “It is, and I only have the GPR machine a week.”

  “I’m off Thursday. I might drop by.”

  “Good. Be back in a bit.” She stopped at the door. “Oh, I brought home a gray tabby that’s been hanging around the visitor center—don’t let her out.”

  “I’ll try not to,” he said. “Are you keeping her?”

  “Until I can find her a good home,” Emma said.

  Her dad opened his mouth, then shut it and shook his head. Just like he used to do when she was a kid and found a stray kitten. When Emma stepped back inside the kitchen, Suzy sat at the door with a look that was plainly unhappy. Emma laughed. She’d forgotten how much cats disliked being on the other side of a closed door. “Sorry.” She grabbed a bread wrapper to keep her hand dry and hurried to the bedroom with Suzy close behind.

  After she showered, Emma chose a burgundy sweater and a pair of jeans to slip into. She loved to wear red, and burgundy was the best shade for her copper-colored hair. Suzy hopped up on her dressing table, another gift from her mother, along with the makeup and bottles of lotions and nail polish. Sitting in front of her mirror, she loosened her hair and brushed it out, letting it fall softly around her face. Maybe she’d wear it this way tonight instead of pulling it up in a ponytail again.

  She wasn’t wearing it down because she’d seen the admiration in Sam’s eyes last night when she’d stepped out of the maintenance building. It was easier to manage. Yeah, right. Who was she kidding? After a quick brush of powder to her face, Emma dabbed on lipstick, something she could easily do with her left hand. The doorbell rang and she hurried to the living room with the cat trailing behind her just as her dad let Brooke into the apartment.

  “Long time, no see,” her dad said.

  “I know. You’re looking good, Mr. Winters,” Brooke said, slipping her backpack off her shoulders and setting it on the floor.

  “How many times have I told you to call me Jack? You make me feel old.”

  “Sorry. I’ll try to do better.” She turned to Emma and fanned herself with her left hand. “Don’t you think it’s a little warm in here?” she asked and wiggled her fingers.

  Emma gasped when she saw the ring. “Shut the front door! Luke proposed! And you’re just now telling me!”

  “Yep.” Brooke’s grin spread across her face. “I had to see your face when I told you.”

  Emma grabbed Brooke’s hand and inspected the ring. The diamond was an emerald cut surrounded by smaller diamonds. “It’s beautiful. But why were you working today? You should have been out celebrating!”

  “Luke was just in for yesterday, but he’ll be back next weekend and we’ll celebrate then.”

  “Have you set a date?”

  “Not yet. I know five months isn’t much time to plan a wedding, but I want to be a June bride,” she said and shook her head. “It hasn’t sunk in yet that I will soon be Mrs. Luke Fereday. You’ll be my maid of honor, won’t you?”

  “You know I will.” She couldn’t believe her best friend was getting married.

  The kitten meowed loudly as she rubbed against Brooke’s leg. “Were we not paying enough attention to you?” she asked and picked her up. “Where did she come from?”

  “She just showed up at the visitor center,” Emma said. “She sure likes you. I think you need to take her home with you.”

  Brooke set the tabby on the floor. “I can’t have pets at my apartment. Will they allow that here?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet.” Emma didn’t think she remembered a clause against pets in her lease. She would have to find out.

  “Good luck.” Brooke took a folder from her backpack and handed it to Emma. “This is the report Sam wanted.”

  “I’ll give it to him.” Emma laid it on the bookcase.

  “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” her dad asked. “There’s plenty. It’s steak . . .”

  “Sounds good,” Brooke said. “But I promised Mom I’d meet her at King’s Tavern for one of their flatbreads to celebrate. Maybe a rain check?”

  “Next time I grill steaks, I’ll make sure Emma calls you,” he replied.

  Brooke turned to Emma. “See you tomorrow?”

  She walked with her to the door. “I probably won’t get to Mount Locust until afternoon. I need to take Suzy to the vet, and then I have a few other errands to run.”

  “I’ll check after lunch and see where you are.” Brooke’s cell phone rang, and her face lit up. “It’s Luke. See you later.”

  “Tell him I said congratulations!” Emma called after her.

  She hummed as she took out her not-every-day china. It wasn’t anything fancy, just plain stoneware, but at least it wasn’t chipped. Then she made a quick salad.

  “Putting out your good stuff, huh?” her dad said.

  “It’s not every day you grill steaks for me,” she said, slipping her arm around him and squeezing his waist.

  “Or that Sam Ryker comes to dinner . . .”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “He’s one of the good guys, Em,” he said, using his pet name for her. When she didn’t comment, he nodded toward her bookcase. “Is that the private investigator report you were talking about last night?”

  Instead of answering, she pulled out her better silverware. Why couldn’t he be like some of the people she knew who didn’t remember anything that happened yesterday? Not only did he never forget anything, he was very good at putting two and two together. “It is,” she said reluctantly.

  “I would like to read it after dinner,” he said. Her face must have shown alarm, because he added, “Your mom called this morning and told me she was going to hire another private investigator, but I’d like to see what Bell said first.”

  “Why did you hire the PI in the first place? And why did you wait six months?”

  “Sheriff Carter asked us to wait until he finished his investigation. He said he was actively searching for Ryan, but we finally decided he wasn’t doing anything. She and I discussed it, and since she was with the district attorney’s office in Jackson, I told her to take the initiative and use their resources.”

  Carter. Just thinking about the man clenched her stomach. Relax. Every time she thought she’d put aside her anger at the former sheriff, it reared its ugly head again. The man had Alzheimer’s. Let it go. Focus on the fact that my parents didn’t ignore Ryan after all.

  “Mom didn’t say anything about hiring another investigator last night,” Emma said as she set water glasses around the table.

  “I think your visit triggered the decision,” he said. “Which is fortunate.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Em, years ago I reconciled myself to the probability that Ryan isn’t with us any longer, but your mom refused to consider it until now.”

  Maybe Sam was right that her dad needed to know what they’d discovered. But not before Sam arrived. “Sam thinks you should read the report, and he wants to ask you what you remember from that time, but I discouraged it. Guess he was right, but could we not talk about it before dinner?”

  “Do you think Sam will be here soon?” he asked just as the doorbell rang.

  “That should be him now.”

  39

  He sat up as something caught his ear. What was this report they were talking about? Hopefully not something else to worry about. He hadn’t planned on coming back to Emma�
�s tonight, until he’d heard that Ryker was returning. After that, he’d wanted to be where he could watch what went on.

  He’d parked a block away on the street that ended in front of Emma’s apartment, far enough away that Ryker wouldn’t notice him. Using binoculars, he trained them on the apartment front door as Emma’s friend came out on the porch with a phone glued to her ear. She glanced down the street. His stomach dipped when Ryker pulled in front of the apartment.

  His grasp tightened on the binoculars as the two talked, then Ryker embraced Emma’s friend, taking her in his arms as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He clenched his jaw so hard it sent pain through his head. Suddenly he was spiraling back to the day he and his mother interrupted his father’s little tryst with her best friend. His mother’s face as she realized what they’d stumbled on was imprinted on his brain. If only he hadn’t gotten sick that day at school and his mother hadn’t had to bring him home early . . .

  The memories tumbled through his mind one after another. How he’d frozen every time his parents fought. How his father’s ridicule and caustic words belittled his mother and pierced her to the core. Words that sent her straight to the happy pills she’d tried again and again to wean herself from. But that wasn’t what killed her. His father had. And then he’d had the nerve to cry at her funeral. He’d wanted to kill him. Still did.

  Pressure built in his chest until he thought it would explode. He narrowed his eyes. Sam Ryker was just like his dad, handsome and smooth-talking. Neither of them seemed to be able to keep their hands away from women.

  It was obvious Ryker wanted Emma for himself. But she wouldn’t fall for his looks and charm. She was his, not Ryker’s, and he’d do whatever it took to keep her.

  He would not let Emma be hurt like his mother.

  40

  Sam set the box of litter and cat pan on the floor. It’d been a struggle to get the cat items and a white bakery box filled with brownies up the stairs without dropping anything. He raised his hand to ring the bell again when Emma opened the door.

  “Thank you,” she said and took the bakery box he handed her.

  “You sound surprised. I told you I would bring dessert.” He responded to Jack Winters’s greeting by waving. “I borrowed a carrier from Jenny to make it easier to take your cat to the vet tomorrow. I’ll get it later.”

  “Tell me how much all of this is, and I’ll get your money,” she said as Sam set the box of litter inside the door.

  “Consider this my gift to your new pet,” he said. “I didn’t know how much cat food you had at your apartment, so I picked up a few cans—it’s in the white bag. And a couple of bowls for food and water.” He looked around. “Where do you want the litter pan?”

  “The laundry room,” she said and put the brownies on the island. “But I’ll take care of it.”

  “I don’t think so.” She was so independent, he ought to let her, except he was afraid she might hurt her hand when she tried to fill the litter box. “You’ll need help, so why not let me do it in the first place?”

  “While you two argue,” her dad said, “I’ll put on the steaks. I know how Emma likes hers, how about you, Sam?”

  “Medium, a little pink showing.”

  While Jack stepped outside, Sam followed her to the laundry room and set up the cat’s litter station.

  Emma sighed. “I keep forgetting what I can’t do—that would have taken both hands,” she said. “I was wrong and you were right.”

  “That wasn’t too hard to admit, was it?” he teased.

  “What do you think?”

  They both laughed, and once they’d introduced the cat to her bathroom, they returned to the living room. “By the way, you just missed Brooke,” she said.

  “I caught her before she drove off,” he said.

  “It’s so exciting,” Emma said with a sigh.

  He grinned. “When she came out of the house, she was on the phone with Luke, and he’d just told her he’s being assigned to the Jackson area for the next year. She was pretty ecstatic,” he said, remembering how his field ranger had thrown her arms around him.

  “And you’re just now telling me?”

  “Sorry, but I think we’ve been busy with your cat,” he said, but she wasn’t listening to him and instead had a faraway look in her eyes.

  “Brooke’s planning a June wedding, you know,” she said softly.

  “That would be great, as long as she doesn’t quit on me.” While Brooke was still finding her way as a law enforcement ranger, she gave 110 percent to her job. “And now that her court case is over, I’m counting on her to help with the investigation at Mount Locust.”

  Emma’s smile faded, and she walked to her bookcase, where she picked up a large tan envelope and handed it to him. “Bell’s report, and Dad wants to read it too.”

  “Have you told him . . . ?”

  “No. Maybe after we eat. He’s gone to too much trouble with the steaks to ruin his appetite,” she said and added, “How about we don’t even discuss the report until later?”

  Sam agreed, although he’d like to get a look at it now. “Why don’t you check on your dad?”

  “You mean keep him occupied while you read it?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “No.”

  After Emma closed the back door behind her, Sam opened the envelope. There were newspaper clippings and two files. He removed the clip from Bell’s file and held his breath as he scanned it and then scanned Sheriff Carter’s report, seeing a brief paragraph detailing Carter’s interview with Sam. Tension eased from his body. There was nothing in the files about Sam and Ryan’s fight. He hadn’t really thought there would be since no one had seen it.

  There was no mention of a date being with Mary Jo at the Hideaway, but Sam had a hazy memory of a man hovering in the background with her. If only he would emerge from the shadows. Why hadn’t he come forward when Mary Jo’s death hit the newspapers? Had he killed Mary Jo and then Ryan and let Ryan take the rap for it?

  Sam switched back to the private investigator’s file, which was basically a rehash of Sheriff Carter’s report except for a copy of the report the Memphis Police Department had filed on Ryan’s abandoned car. He tapped the papers. The former sheriff made no mention of his son or Gordon Cole being at the tavern that night. While only a scant two pages, his summary on the second page left little doubt that he believed Ryan killed the girl.

  Questions dogged Sam. It puzzled him that Sheriff Carter had spent so little time and effort looking for Ryan. And why hadn’t he mentioned Trey and Gordon? They had come home for the weekend from Ole Miss and were some of the last people to see Mary Jo and Ryan. The back door opened, and he shoved the papers back into the envelope as Emma and Jack came into the kitchen.

  “Wash up,” Emma said. “We’ll be ready to eat in five minutes.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Sam pushed back from the table. “That was the best steak I’ve had in a long time,” he said. He didn’t know when he’d enjoyed a meal more, and it wasn’t just the food. Conversation had flowed freely, with Jack Winters cracking jokes, keeping them laughing. Even Emma had loosened up.

  “It was good,” she chimed in. “And thank you both for cutting my meat.”

  “Glad you enjoyed them.” Jack made a bowing motion. “I rarely grill just for myself, and worried that I might have lost my touch.”

  While Emma was making coffee to go with Sam’s brownies, Jack asked what brought him back to Natchez.

  “My family. Mostly my ten-year-old nephew. His father checked out and—”

  “You’re stepping up to the plate,” Jack said. “That’s what I remember most about you. Always taking on other people’s responsibilities. I never understood why you didn’t come back after college.”

  Sam shifted in his chair.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy,” Jack said.

  “It’s okay. It’s just that Natchez holds no fond memories for me. Mostly it reminds me of my f
ailures,” he said, giving Jack a wry smile. “Once I left for Northern Arizona University, it was easier to keep going in a different direction. Making the decision to come back, even to help my nephew, was hard. Getting the promotion to district ranger helped, though.”

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Jack said. “Did you play football in college?”

  “I didn’t have time.”

  “That’s a shame. I still remember the state playoffs and that pass you threw in the last seconds of Game 4.”

  “Game 4 isn’t the one most people remember,” Sam said. No. Most people remembered the last game and the fumble he made when he got sacked that lost the championship. His dad had made it a point to let him know what a loser he was. Not that his dad ever needed an excuse to criticize him or remind him of his failures. Like being responsible for his sister almost losing her life and ending up with a limp.

  “Well, it’s the one I remember. Thank you, honey,” Jack said, accepting the cup Emma handed him.

  “Sam brought the brownies.” She turned to him. “Coffee?”

  “I’ll get it.”

  As they enjoyed dessert, the conversation veered to Jack’s job as chief nursing officer at Merit Hospital. Once the coffee was gone and talk had dwindled, Emma picked up Sam’s plate.

  “I’ll do this,” he said. “And you can let your dad look at your hand.”

  He cleared the table and stacked the dishes beside the dishwasher while Jack and Emma moved to the sofa, where Jack unwrapped the bandage around her hand.

  “Is there anything I can wear besides this clunky wrap?” she asked, flexing her fingers.

  “Maybe. I talked to Gordon, and he approved this,” Jack said, taking a box from the supplies he’d brought in. “But only if you promise not to pick up anything. Or drive.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “When can I drive?”

  “Didn’t Gordon tell you ten days?” Sam said from the kitchen.

  “Don’t pay any attention to him,” Emma said.

  “It depends on what the X-rays show when you go back to see Gordon,” her dad said. He removed a brace from the box and put it on her hand.